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Monday, July 27, 2015

An Explanation of Language/Yon Eksplikasyon Lang

Ou met jwenn atik sa an Kreyol anba sa ki an angle a.
Language matters, and language can be power. The language I choose to use at any moment in Haiti determines who will and will not understand what I say. Like any power, this can be used for good or for bad. When used to express superiority, manipulate, degrade, suppress or exclude it is unjust; likewise, when used to amplify the voices of the suppressed and outcast it is full of justice and goodness.

When I say language, I mean the particular language of choice, be it English, French, Haitian Creole or Elvish. The issue is not that speaking any one of these languages is a bad thing in and of itself. The issue is about awareness of the privilege being able to speak them, and wisely reflecting on when and how to appropriately use them and NOT exert unjust power over others.

It was to illustrate this point that I chose to write a brief post a couple of weeks ago on racism, the shooting at Charleston's Emmanuel AME Church, and the parallels in Haiti, yet post it only in Haitian Creole (Men jan mwen we'l). #blacklivesmatter #lavinwaenpotan
Many of my non-Creole speaking readers asked for a translation, for which, to their frustration, I only offered Google Translate, which is not great with longer passages. That frustration, I believe, comes from a sense of powerlessness (and of course sadness for missing out on one of my thrilling blog posts). And that's just from one small written piece.

Meanwhile, I found out I have many more Haitian readers than I previously thought, when they shared their appreciation for that post. In that appreciation, I feel a sense of camaraderie, solidarity, and liberation. And that's just from one small written piece.

I do a lot of translating between English and Creole with my work, and I have encountered circumstances where English speakers in meetings speak to cut off my translation so the Haitians in the room cannot understand what is being said. I can understand the need for private conversations, but this manner is inappropriate.

American groups often speak about the desire and need for local engagement, local contribution and local control over things in Haiti. "Why can't Haitians just help themselves?" they say. Choosing to speak so that Haitians cannot understand is asserting ones own power, reminding others that they do not have the same power, thus undermining the "local leadership philosophy" and continuing the status quo of foreign control.

I cannot exclude myself in this critique, though. I am guilty of using my English to exclude someone in my presence from understanding me. Most were simple moments, and often in frustration (not an excuse)--a comment or complaint about someone persistently asking me for a favor, for example. I rightly regret each of these moments.

An important aside: I am not saying that using a language someone cannot understand is always a bad thing, nor is it always meant with bad intent. But the language of choice is connected to a history and context, and that history and context influences the present reality.

There is a big difference between using English around people who only speak Creole and using Creole around people who only speak English. In my experience, the former is almost always about secrecy, power and manipulation. It is using the fact that others cannot speak the same language in order to gain an advantage in the given situation. The latter, however--speaking Creole among those who only speak English--can also be about coping. Coping with the imbalance in power and context through jokes, clarification, and relating.

Fran Quigley reminds us in his book, How Human Rights Can Build Haiti, that French is a language of privilege here as well, where the majority of the population only speaks Creole. This creates an imbalance of power just as between English and Creole speakers (Read this: Teaching In Kreyol). For example, a Haitian may be arrested, rightly or wrongly, and given trial that they cannot understand. French is the language of the government and the more educated (and wealthy) in Haiti, so not knowing the language can be a barrier to justice, state services and even jobs.

Lawyers Brian Concannon (American) and Mario Joseph (Haitian), featured in Quigley's book, are working in Haiti through the Bureau des Avocats Internationaux (BAI and IJDH) for better justice in Haiti. Quigley nicely presents the difficulties of navigating a French-based justice system as a Creole-only speaker, the lawsuit against the UN over cholera, and the trail of the 1994 Raboteau massacre. Worth the read if you want to know more about this.

In my personal work, when serving as a translator I strive to translate everything so that all can hear the same message, even if I must summarize or go back several moments to catch up. This is tedious, but I greatly value it's importance. I also now work all written documents and emails in English and Creole, when necessary, so that any audience can read them and have access to them. I keep in mind this simple fact: Creole is an official language in Haiti, English is not. I would be imposing if I only worked in English.

Language matters. The power that comes from speaking a language is intertwined with our economic status, race, nationality and gender. English speaking visitors to Haiti, or any other country, should be aware of the power they hold by virtue of the language they speak, and likewise be aware of the powerlessness that comes from not being able to speak it.

If you come to work in Haiti long term, learn Creole. You will be better for it, as will those you work and live with. (Secret: it's also fun to learn). If you are a short term visitor to Haiti, simply try to learn it. It can be hard without immersion, but that's okay. In my view, simply making an effort to speak the language is a big victory for justice and more balanced relationships.
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